A Touch of Affection
by McGonagall's Bola
Summary: She had never been so nervous, yet her gut told her to go with it. Lily/Rick


The nerves rushed through my body when he took gentle hold of my hand and then dragged me into his dimly-lit bedroom. He had pushed the nerves to a back corner of my mind with the heated kisses I had learned to expect from him –– or from me maybe; from who I was and how alive I felt when I was like that with him. Then I only barely recognized myself, because I was the woman whom I hadn't seen or felt for so many years.

I hadn't expected the touch of his lips upon my abdomen to send a jolt through my body, reawaken urges I hadn't had for so many months. Of course I had imagined… well, _it_. More accurately, I had worried over it in many ways. I hadn't really _felt_ it until, though. It actually both scared and excited me.

When he touched me more intimately, I grew less scared and more undaunted. He chased the nerves away once more, my fear of how and what I felt and possibly who I could be. Rick Sammler had that effect on me, and I liked it. I liked it enough to believe I could let go with him, which was a foreign feeling. No other man but Jake had ever once seen me naked after I had given birth to the girls… While I lost most excessive pounds I gained when carrying them –– not all of the forty-six I gained with Zoë, but still –– my body bore the evidence. It left me with stretch marks and quite saggier bosom.

Still it was quite scary to me on a much deeper level to let someone _see _me even when the superficial doubts and fears, immature nervosities and insecurities got subdued no matter how much my heart told me to just lean on him for now. Even when I asked him in a rather un-ladylike, horny way to continue. My gut told me not to be afraid or doubt him in any way.

He confirmed it when he stopped upon feeling resistance from my side, even when I said he didn't really have to stop. I knew the reason why we couldn't –– _I _couldn't. I hadn't really felt a man in so long. I was scared, too damn nervous to allow him inside. That's not only meant sexually; I just barely knew him at all. Maybe I was most scared of that part inside me wanting him so much, though.

Even if it was uncomfortable and a bit painful then for me –– I hadn't been with a man for months, regardless of the nerves –– I hated the thought of being such disappointment. So when he announced that he needed just a moment and I felt him weaken inside, felt his need disappear, I felt both slightly relieved and failed. _Too soon_, my mind told me. _Too much, too soon._

I felt so _bare_ lying there with him, and I wouldn't have managed to keep control of my emotions even if I had tried. My tears weren't only of self-doubt and fear. There definitely was guilt, too –– guilt because I couldn't even remember how to be with someone and felt I had to relearn everything; guilt because I just wasn't good enough at it or anything.

He confirmed it once more when he held me while I lay there and sobbed –– definitely nothing Jake ever would have done, especially after Grace and Zoë. He began to be less doting once Zoë was born, I believe. Jake really was the gentlest through both pregnancies. I remember the backrubs he gave me. After that, he must have realized I wasn't twenty-two anymore. He must have realized I wasn't all that attractive any longer if I ever was. Still, Rick held me despite the fact I bore evidence of motherhood and age like any other woman of forty undoubtedly would have. He still held me, and I felt grateful… knew he was the right man, the one I needed him to be then.

No, it was more than that. I knew it when he touched me like no one had before in my entire life, when he didn't stop once he climaxed. I wouldn't say that we made love. I wouldn't really have spoken of 'love' then –– not yet. Still it was far more than just sex. It wouldn't have named it shagging, nor fucking.

Instead, that first night together with Rick was slow and relaxed and what I needed more than wanted.

I guess I needed for him not to stop kissing me even when he slipped from my warmth. I felt alive when his lips roved over my heated, tingling skin. When he continued down, I felt that I should tell him to stop… but somehow I couldn't. Until him, no one had ever kissed me there. I believe I needed his mouth where his hands had roamed a little earlier, though –– his lips and tongue, his gentleness.

I sigh. I needed _him_, I now know.


End file.
